Statecraft. Margaret Thatcher

East German secret police, the Stasi, among other things spying on NATO (as he disclosed in a book-length interview in March 2000). In the early 1990s he returned to his native St Petersburg, first to work at the university and then joining the administration of the late Anatoly Sobchak, the reformist but allegedly corrupt mayor of St Petersburg. In 1996 Mr Putin was brought to Moscow to be Deputy Chief Administrator in the Kremlin. In 1998 he was appointed head of the Federal Security Bureau (FSB), the KGB’s successor. He then moved from Secretary of the President’s Security Council to become Prime Minister in August 1999, succeeding Mr Yeltsin the following March.

      All of which tells us practically nothing; indeed, given Mr Putin’s background in a profession where deceit and disinformation are all it may be less than nothing. It is always important in matters of high politics to know what you do not know. Those who think they know, but are mistaken, and act upon their mistakes, are the most dangerous people to have in charge.

      Britain’s current Prime Minister certainly felt no inhibitions about pronouncing judgement on Mr Putin. He enthusiastically described the then Acting President as a ‘moderniser’ and offered to allow him to benefit from the expertise of the Downing Street Policy Unit. Mr Blair stated as well that Mr Putin ‘believes in a Russia which is ordered and strong but also democratic and liberal’.

      A good deal of this was wishful thinking. Western leaders looked forward to dealing with a Russian leader who was healthy, sober, predictable and presentable. And they therefore hoped against hope that they were also dealing with a reforming democrat. It was, indeed, possible that such a person might have emerged from the stable of the KGB. But it was equally possible, and perhaps more probable, that Vladimir Putin was closer to the model of that other ex-KGB chief who became President, Yuri Andropov – hailed by the West at the time as a pro-Western liberal because he liked jazz and drank Scotch, ignoring the fact that he had also been a central figure in the brutal suppression of Hungarian freedom in 1956. Shortly before his election, Mr Putin solemnly unveiled a plaque to Andropov in the KGB’s old Lubyanka headquarters. That was not, all things considered, a reassuring sign.

      Since then a clearer, though far from unambiguous, picture of Mr Putin’s presidency has been emerging. Its central approach is to create a strong state so as to restore order. For all its ominous overtones, that is what Mr Putin means by his oft-repeated phrase a ‘dictatorship of law’. His view, like that of probably most Russians, is that the Gorbachev and Yeltsin years saw authority drained away from central institutions to the benefit of different selfish interests, such as financial oligarchs, the mafia and regional bosses. In the chaos and corruption that have followed, the Russian people have lost out and Russia itself has been humiliated. Thus populism and patriotism have provided the main themes of Mr Putin’s campaigns. And he has been remarkably successful, winning a mandate of 53 per cent of the electorate and continuing – as of now – to enjoy widespread support.

      In some respects, that is a programme with much to recommend it. Freedom without order is, indeed, mere anarchy. While Russia’s society, economy and politics are heavily criminalised there is no prospect for lasting recovery. Government everywhere does need to be strong in carrying out its essential tasks, and particularly so when the obstacles are as formidable as in Russia.

      But government in a free society must also be limited in size and scope; it must not intrude into those aspects of life which are by rights private; and, above all, it must uphold and abide by, not undermine or override, the law. The call for ‘strong’ measures and ‘strong’ men is often an all too well-known preliminary to some kind of dictatorship.

      How does Mr Putin’s programme measure up to this? Perhaps the most obvious feature of his analysis is its realism. He does seem to understand that Russia is in dire straits and that more of the same – whether the ‘same’ is communism or mafia-controlled quasi-capitalism – is not a viable option. In his State of the Nation Address to the Russian Federal Assembly in July 2000 he spoke in sombre tones about the country’s parlous state – its demographic decline which (he said) ‘threatened the nation’s survival’, the fact that the recent spurt of economic growth was unsustainable while structures were unreformed, and that ‘a considerable segment’ of that economy was in the hands of the criminal underworld. Mr Putin set out a programme of free-market reforms in language which sounds convincing – calling for lower taxes, less government interference and more competition. And some of this programme has since been implemented. The President has surrounded himself with at least some people who genuinely understand and believe in that programme.* Above all, he appears to have grasped that reform programmes are not simply a means of extorting fresh loans from gullible Westerners. He sees policies for economic revival as vital to prevent Russia being for ever under the thumb of non-Russians. This too makes sense. National pride has to be mobilised behind tough economic measures if they are to be given time to work – as we showed in Britain in the early eighties.

      I sympathise too with the Russian President’s desire to create efficient administrative and security structures. Russia is a huge country which is not easy to rule. It is probably necessary to reinforce central control in some areas in order to stamp out corruption. My Russian friends talk of the need to ‘nationalise’ the Kremlin once more after years during which it was ‘privatised’ to the benefit of various powerful interests. And it is only natural that when embarking upon such a programme one should want to rely on ‘new men’ chosen from among one’s own friends and confidants. That is how politics works – particularly in the political jungle.

      But, with all that said, I can also understand the worries of those – at present, it seems, a small minority – in Russia who are genuinely worried by some of Mr Putin’s decisions – such as, to clip the wings of elected regional governors, to appoint his own associates with FSB backgrounds to key positions, and to clamp down on critical independent media. Are we seeing the restoration of authority or the beginnings of authoritarianism? The jury is still out.

      What matters most to non-Russians, however, is President Putin’s approach to foreign relations. And again the signs are mixed. In some respects, Russia’s attitudes have suggested continuity with those of the old Soviet Union.

      Russia has shown itself determined to counter American global pre-eminence. To this end, it has sought to use the issue of ballistic missile defence and adherence to the ABM treaty to split Europe from America – with, it should be added, a good deal of help from the French and German governments. Russia has also been trying to build a broad ‘strategic partnership’ with China against the West.

      In truth, these features of Russian foreign policy have never made any long-term sense, even for Russia. Mr Putin and his advisers must know that neither Moscow nor Beijing – nor even a combination of the two – can hope to compete in great-power politics with America. He must know that he will continue to need America’s help, or at least forbearance, as he tries to restore his country’s economy. He might also reflect that Russia could have to call upon the United States to use its planned ballistic missile defence system to bring down a missile aimed by an Islamic terrorist group or a rogue state at a Russian city.

      Russia’s plans to create a strategic partnership with China to combat American influence are also flawed. Some 300,000 Chinese now live in the Russian Far East (if migration continues at the current rate, that population could reach ten million in fifty years’ time). Seven and a half million Russians face three hundred million Chinese across the border. Someone will eventually develop and exploit the natural riches of Russia’s Far East: but will it be the Russians, or the Chinese? It would be more sensible to settle, once and for all, Russia’s old territorial disputes with Japan, and then welcome in Japanese capital. That is certainly a more prudent course than accepting the region’s economic dependency on China.*

      There is, however, another side to Mr Putin’s policies – one which has dominated Western perceptions of Russia in the wake of the terrorist attacks of 11 September. The Russian President’s reaction to these events was at once humane and shrewd. There is no reason to believe that his expressions of sympathy and his close rapport with President Bush in America’s time of trial were anything other than sincere. But